I Will Stay
by 3R15UK0UM31
Summary: "Only I've been there through the worst of it, only I've seen the darkest parts of him." So I will stay. Lithuania POV. RusLiet, Soviet-Era fic.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters. **

***0*0*0*0***

It doesn't really hurt anymore.

I mean, I know it _hurts_. Of course it hurts. It should, anyways. But interesting things have happened with time. I've started to realize that pain is just a word. It's all in the mind. I think maybe I've cracked a little. I wouldn't be surprised. But deep inside those cracks, there's no pain.

No physical pain anyways. It stopped a long while ago. I still react to it though. I can still feel my muscles rippling under the blows, my skin still splits and my blood still dries and flakes on these ancient tiles. I still feel screams rising in my chest, and while I do my best to stop them, whimpers escape from time to time, and scarlet droplets spray over my lips when I try to catch my breath.

It took so long to fall into this numbness. Years. Decades. It was disgusting, horrifying, agonizing. I want to hate every second. And yet despite everything, I can't. I can't lie on my bare stomach, bleeding out on the cold tiles, remembering everything he's done to me, and simply _hate_. I've tried. I'd lie there, feeling my back throb and sting and cool with each rapid pulse, staring at the grain of the tile and attempting to will up a lasting, burning hatred. The consuming hatred that I knew would be _right_, would _feel_ right after all this.

All I can ever manage is a kind of hot pity, a painfully empathetic understanding that swells in my chest and sometimes even draws tears. Never for myself; I can't remember the last time I felt bad for myself. There's just something about watching a man – a powerful man, a man the entire world fears – emotionally gutting himself right in front of you that makes you realize how great you've had it for the past few centuries.

A choked _izvinite_ is all it takes to wipe away any of my anger. He always cleans my wounds and he always apologizes profusely. Sincerely, too. He doesn't want to hurt me, he says. I need to learn my place. The faster I learn my place the less he'll have to hurt me, and that would be better for both of us, da? He smiles that broken smile even as a tear burns its way down his cheek and mingles with the blood, _my_ blood, staining his face. And it's _that_ that makes me rise before the sun every morning and cook breakfast for him and smile, and kiss a cheek that only hours before glistened ruby.

He's never been quite right, and honestly _no one_ can blame him for that. But long ago, maybe 200 years ago, his smiles were genuine, his chiding gentle and benign. He laughed openly and grew acres of sunflowers in the south, and while he might've unleashed his anger on us from time to time, he never drew blood.

I can sympathize with how he's changed. Only I've been there through the worst of it, only I've seen the darkest parts of him. On the deepest level, I _understand_ him, and sometimes I wish more than anything just to forget what I knew. Sometimes I don't _want_ to understand. I don't want to _care_! Sometimes what I want (what I _know_ I want) is to _hate_ this man, this nation. Hate him for everything, the decades of torture, abuse of every kind imaginable. The humiliation, the pain, the countless times I've _died _only to be dragged sluggishly and painfully back into the world. I want to be able to turn my back and finally _leave_. Leave all of it.

And I will.

I've forgiven him every time. Because I know it will end soon. The foundations are crumbling, he knows it, but only I can see the extent of the damage.

I will have to break him. But after everyone's left and the snow is stained pink under him, I'll come back, and I'll be there when he wakes up.

Because despite everything else, I still love him.

**0*0*0*0*0*0**

**I don't have a specific date for this...mid to late '80s, maybe.**

**I also did a total of :no: research for this, except googling a bit of Russian. By the way, if that's wrong...tell me. **

**Speaking of Russian...I've never had a one word gloss before, but here it is:**

**Izvinite = I'm sorry**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. :)**

**~Erisu Koumei**


End file.
